Dolls, Nephews, and Ambushes in the Dark
by WalkingInTalaria
Summary: After Aredhel leaves a very precious object at Fëanor's house, Fingolfin must rescue it at all costs.
1. Chapter 1: A Doll and Nephews

**Chapter I**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Silmarillion or any of its characters, much as I might wish to.**

The gentle silver light from Telperion streamed in shifting rays over Aman. Most elves in the city of Tirion were abed, save a few wandering couples taking a romantic stroll through the glades and woods that bordered the city. Far away, shimmering snow on the high peak of Taniquetil glimmered. Peace, as it ought, reigned supreme in the land of the Valar.

Fingolfin suppressed a yawn as he hurried through the silver-lit streets. He would never know what had possessed his half-brother to live on the other side of the city, away from the rest of his family. It made visiting very inconvenient, which, he realized, was likely the reason for the distance. His family, along with Finarfin's household, had just concluded a day-long family feast at Fëanor's home. It had taken the better part of the morning to even reach his brother's house, and even longer to make their way back. Fingon, Turgon, and little Aredhel had been exhausted from roughhousing with their cousins, tearing up and down the lawns and woods all day long. The two youngest had to be carried. Riding was out of the question in the busy streets, and the children would have been unable to manage the horses in their tired state. It was a trip one tried to avoid.

Under normal conditions, Fingolfin would never have gone to his brother's house twice in one day, especially not late in the night when most reasonable people were abed. But Aredhel had left her favorite doll, a perfect replica of an elf in full armor, somewhere on Fëanor's massive grounds while she was playing with her cousins. Her sobs upon discovering this tragic loss prevented anyone from getting any sleep, at least until Fingolfin promised to retrieve it that very night. Mollified, Aredhel fell asleep curled up in a chair by the door, awaiting the doll's return, and the rest of the household was saved from certain hearing loss.

Fingolfin, however, was forced to rush away to his half-brother's house, find a small doll in a large property, and rush back. He was already tired from wrangling verbally with Fëanor during their earlier visit and staving off Finarfin's well-meant attempts at peacemaking. However, he could hardly go back without Aredhel's doll.

The halls and houses were thinning out, leaving him long stretches through which he could run quickly without waking the inhabitants. The cobblestones of the road seemed to fly away from under his feet. If he were not embarking on such a dangerous errand at such an inopportune hour, he would have enjoyed the run. After a final sprint, he was gazing up at the large gates of Fëanor's mansion. They were, of course, tightly locked. He pounded on them for a few minutes without success. No one opened the gates, and it seemed unlikely that any would. Tall and immovable, they stood still in the soft light, delicately unyielding decorations reflecting the light in much harder rays.

Fingolfin thought carefully. At this point, either he could return home and face his daughter's tiny but powerful wrath, or he could continue his efforts to enter the grounds and find the doll. It was not long before he was pulling himself over the low stone wall that surrounded his brother's property. After one last look around, he dropped over the other side.

* * *

Celegorm, Curufin, Amrod, and Amras were sitting by the small stream that ran through their father's grounds. Celegorm, naturally, was tousling Huan's ears as the twins tried to skip stones in the water. Curufin was watching the three of them with quiet amusement and carrying on a conversation with Celegorm. They were, in fact, discussing how long their father would force them to help him in the forges if they were caught outside after curfew. Celegorm was putting forth his opinion that Curufin would have to spend his time making horseshoes instead of his specialty, jewelry, and the others would have to shovel fuel for the two smiths. Celegorm was rather certain about this, since they had slipped out through the window multiple times, and had been caught on every occasion. He was beginning to wax eloquent on the amount of time this punishment would last when Celegorm clapped a hand over his mouth and unceremoniously dropped the twins onto Huan's back, giving the large hound a shove back in the direction from which they had come. "Intruder in the orchard, coming up from the left pear grove," he hissed, and all four elves sped away to the house.


	2. Chapter 2: Nephews and an Ambush

**Chapter II**

 **Disclaimer: Everything but the idea for this fic belongs to Tolkien. And I don't think he'd want my idea anyway. (I wouldn't if I were him!)**

A flash of something gilded caught Fingolfin's eye. High up in the top branches of a tall pear tree, his daughter's doll sat wedged in the fork of a branch. With a long-suffering sigh, Fingolfin scrambled up to the top and grabbed the toy in one hand. Looking down, he realized that his trip would be several times more difficult to execute one-handed and going in the opposite direction. The distance from the top of the tree to the ground suddenly seemed much greater than the distance from the ground to the top of the tree. Grasping the doll around the waist with one hand, he began to slip and climb down the tree again. As he paused to rest nearly two-thirds of the way down, he wondered, not for the first time, how his little Írissë had managed to get up there at all.

* * *

Curufin, slightly in the lead, reached the door first and dragged it open. Dashing inside, he rushed upstairs to his brothers' bedrooms. Maedhros shot awake with a start, sitting bolt upright and glaring at his brother. Curufin blurted out, "Intruder in the gardens!" Withdrawing just as quickly, he made the rounds of the other bedrooms, his rapid warnings snapping his brothers awake before fading down the hallways just as rapidly. Before many more minutes had passed, the sons of Fëanor were gathered on the doorstep, all in varying states of readiness. Maedhros, his red hair standing up at odd angles, and Maglor, hiding a large yawn, were holding iron-tipped walking sticks. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes with one hand, Caranthir used the other to belt on one of Celegorm's hunting knives. The four truants were practically dancing with impatience as the others, still half-asleep, stumbled about.

* * *

Fingolfin had nearly made it to the bottom of the tree when his grasp on a branch suddenly slipped, and he fell ten feet through a tangle of leaves onto the ground below. The impact knocked the wind out of him, leaving him flat in the dirt, gasping for air and wincing as a particularly knotty tree root embedded itself in his back. Soon, however, he was up again and heading for the wall over which he had first come. So engrossed was he in this business that he never heard the many snaps and crackles as three half-asleep elves followed him at no great distance. Their wood-wise brothers made loud hushing noises, and Curufin, who was in the lead, glared at all six of them for making such a ruckus.

Some few minutes passed before Fingolfin was able to regain his bearings and find the wall over which he had come. Setting Aredhel's doll on the top, he was about to pull himself up after it, when a large, blunt object found its way to the middle of his back. A familiar voice suggested that he turn around slowly and explain his business, at least if he had any desire to keep all his ribs intact. As he faced about, he was confronted by his seven nephews, all quite prepared to do him some serious hurt. Maedhros was still holding his walking staff, which was now aimed at the center of Fingolfin's chest, as was Maglor's. Celegorm was obviously prepared to send Huan after his ankle, and Caranthir was holding the hunting knife in a rather threatening manner. Curufin had snatched up the nearest object as they left the house, which had happened to be one of his chisels: a very large, very sharp steel tool that looked capable of creating a hole in an elven skull with little difficulty. The Ambarussa had hunting spears poised to throw.

All seven elves stared at Fingolfin. The twins quickly reversed their spears, Maedhros and Maglor dropped the ends of their staffs to the ground, and Huan shut his jaws with a snap. The silence dragged on for minutes. "This is quite the anticlimax," Armod finally remarked. "I was rather expecting a dangerous madman bent on murdering and robbing us. Father would likely say that we have found exactly that," he added as an afterthought. A pained expression grew on Maedhros's face, and he appeared mere minutes away from sighing in exasperation and living in the woods with Fingon, away from all his family and their troubles.


	3. Chapter 3: The Glorious House of Finwë

**Chapter 3**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable. If I did, the characters would have made me write something better by now.**

Unfortunately, as Maedhros was both incapable of and unwilling to leave his dysfunctional family to take care of themselves, he was left to sort out the debacle of what to do with his trespassing uncle. A whispered conference with his brothers quickly worsened the situation. The Ambarussa, being young and tired, suggested that they let him go now and tell their father in the morning. Celegorm and Caranthir, on the other hand, voted that they bring him back to the house and let Fëanor deal with his half-brother himself. This, from Fingolfin's point of view, was a very bad idea. He was relieved slightly by Maedhros and Maglor's vote to send him on his way with no one the wiser. It was Curufin that started causing the trouble. In a careless manner, he suggested, "It might perhaps be an amusing diversion to chase him about the perimeter of the grounds before letting him go. We could always tell Father in the morning."

At this, Fingolfin decided that he was unlikely to gain from any further discussion and attempted a vault over the wall. Unfortunately for him, Curufin had not quite lowered his chisel, and Fingolfin received the blunt end of it on the top of his head. Curufin insisted on securing their unconscious uncle to the nearest tree with an armful of vines, despite Maedhros and Maglor's protestations that such actions were completely unnecessary.

With Fingolfin out of the way, Curufin's idea caught on quickly. Celegorm was an avid hunter, and the twins were already strategy and technique from him. Sleep was forgotten in the face of an actual hunt. Caranthir thought it quite a decent compromise, and complimented Curufin on his ability to reconcile differing opinions. However, Maedhros and Maglor were decidedly against the plan. This caused some argument among the brothers as the older five debated the pros and cons of chasing their uncle around the house. The Ambarussa, meanwhile, were trying to hide their wide yawns while protesting to anyone who would listen that they weren't tired, really. None of them noticed that the lights were mingling again.

Back in the house, Fëanor and Nerdanel were rudely awakened by the utter silence. At this hour, Amrod, Amras, and Celegorm would already have been awake and causing havoc with Huan. They should have heard Maglor finishing the instrumental composition he had been forcibly dragged away from the previous night. Countless other morning sounds were also conspicuously absent. This, of course, required investigation.

A careful inspection of the house revealed nothing except three sets of rumpled sheets and four sets of fairly pristine ones. This argued that all the boys had slipped out, but, contrary to their usual custom, had not returned by morning. Therefore, Fëanor reasoned to his wife, since they had broken their habit for the first time in nearly twenty years, they must be occupied with something of great importance, and therefore, whatever they were doing, they most likely should not be doing it. This in turn meant that, since they had not stopped doing whatever it was that they should not be doing, they needed to be found. By the time Fëanor had worked through his reasoning, Nerdanel had packed the last of nine breakfasts into a basket and stood patiently by the door. With that, the two of them set off across the lawn.

There was no missing their sons. Maedhros and Maglor had succeeded in drawing Caranthir over to their side of the argument, leading to a very even battle of words concerning their uncle. A few minutes after Celegorm called Caranthir a sulky, stubborn bore, and Caranthir retaliated in kind, Fingolfin woke up and added his voice to the clamor. The result was a shouting match that could be heard easily. It stopped, however, when Fëanor and Nerdanel arrived in their midst.

The arguments immediately resumed when Fëanor and Fingolfin began hurling accusations and insults at each other. Fingolfin was at even more of a disadvantage than was customary since he was tied to a tree and Fëanor was not. Nerdanel chose this time to gently rebuke her sons for slipping out of the house after their appointed curfews. In turn, they were attempting to defend themselves while still holding up their ends of the argument that had been interrupted by their parents' arrival. Fingolfin began making appeals to his nephews, Fëanor strongly encouraged them to ignore their uncle and listen to their mother, and Nerdanel appeared to be on the point of throwing up her hands in despair and leaving her husband's family behind. Far across the grounds, they could see their neighbors' heads over the fences. Birds were collecting in the trees to watch the show. It seemed that nearly the entire city could hear their clamor.

It was at this point that they were interrupted by a loud whinny, hoofbeats, and a small voice asking, "Excuse me, Uncle Curufinwë, but is my father still here?" The responses were many and varied.

"Good morning, Findekano! Hey, let's leave the others here to sort everything out and go practice your archery on the other side of the house; how does that sound?" This was Maedhros's hurried reply. Fingon smiled brightly and waved when he saw his cousin.

"Findekano! Why did your mother let you come by yourself?" Fingolfin demanded just as quickly. Fingon replied with another smile and a wave.

"Your father, my boy, is the ragbag currently tied to the tree over yonder. Your cousin Curufinwë did the knots, and you can see even from here what a fine job he did with them too!" Fingon's smile was redirected towards Curufin, who swept an elegant, slightly mocking bow to his cousin.

However, by this time the chaos had broken out again as Fingon tried to find out exactly why his father was tied to a tree in his uncle's orchard; Fëanor and Fingolfin resumed their argument; Maedhros endeavored with some success to simultaneously apologize to his mother on behalf of them all for staying out late, continue the discussion with his brothers, and convince Fingon to escape the madness with him; Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, and Curufin were still arguing pointlessly over which idea for dealing with their uncle would have been best; Amrod and Amras had fallen asleep sitting against Huan; and Nerdanel was offering bread, preserves, and milk to anyone who would take it while trying to break up some of the smaller disagreements. The noise increased exponentially. Spiraling quickly upward, the volume rose as the elves were continually forced to shout louder than each other to be heard.

"Enough!" bellowed a new voice. Completely unmistakable, the Doomsman of the Valar strode up to the quarreling family. "I live miles away from this city, and yet the spirits under my care are crying out in distress because of the intolerable clamor you are making. Now settle your differences and cease your senseless bleating! I swear by the Walls of the World, the House of Finwë is the most pestilential one this side of the Void!"

The Ambarussa, wakened by Námo's arrival, looked at each other, then simultaneously asked the Vala, "Who's the most pestilential on the other side of the Void?"

"Melkor and Manwë," Námo promptly replied. "Never become like those two, not even if the sky falls and the earth gapes."

A strong voice interrupted him from somewhere above them in the sky. "As I recall, the Allfather gave that honor to you and your siblings." Ignoring the shocked looks from the elves below, and the slightly embarrassed expression on Námo's face, Manwë descended from a cloud. He continued, in a reverent tone, "And who are we to speak against Eru?"

Vairë immediately ran to her husband's defense. "Of course we do not doubt the word of Eru, but have we not heard Him say many times that you and Melkor, even before his rebellion, were the loudest of us all? For your trumpets and his horns deafened all around, when you two really got going."

Varda chimed in, appearing next to her husband, "Aye, we all heard Him say so, many times." Manwë looked at the Star-Queen beside him, looking almost betrayed. Námo and Vairë looked smug. The House of Finwë glanced at each other awkwardly, feeling as though they were intruding on something. In fact, they rather were.

The Valar could be easily distracted by their friendly squabbles. Ingwë could have told them that once they started on whose was the worst family of them all, they would be unlikely to stop for a few more hours. Fëanor, however, tried not to associate with the Vanyar more than he could help, and so was unaware of this. As were all the others.

"So what if Vana grew dandelions all over Yavanna's lawn once! High King of Arda you may be, Manwë, but I remember a time when you sang a gust of wind under your brother's hair and made it stand straight up for a whole three stanzas!" Varda protested an hour later. Fëanor sighed quietly and slid down the tree he had been standing against for the last thirty minutes until he was sitting at its base, resting his head against the trunk.

"Do you think they'll ever get it figured out?" he whispered to Nerdanel, who shook her head slowly. Maedhros muffled a snort as Manwë tried to tell a smug Námo that he remembered when the latter had frightened his siblings by pronouncing terrible-sounding dooms against them in sepulchral tones. The younger Fëanorions looked sympathetically at Nienna and Irmo, accompanied by half-fearful and half-irritated looks at their older brother, and Fëanor sighed again.

By this point, everything was in a state of disarray. Hunting spears were scattered with the contents of the picnic basket on the ground, and Huan seemed to have found the bacon Nerdanel had thoughtfully packed. Fingolfin was trying to be inconspicuous about biting through his restraints while trying not to disturb Fingon, who had fallen asleep leaning against him. The Ambarussa had dozed off again against Huan, who hardly minded provided he could finish his bacon in peace. By this time, even Curufin was yawning slightly. Fëanor found himself yawning as well, and laughing as Manwë and Námo bickered over which of the two was the more imposing.

Looking up, he saw Nerdanel shaking a finger at an unrepentant Huan and mouthing threats at the hound, who merely grinned back at her and wagged his tail impertinently. Nerdanel sighed, gave Celegorm's dog a glare, and began repacking the rest of the failed breakfast into the basket. "But remember that time you played the final notes of your trumpet piece right in Melkor's ear? Or the time he hid in the Void and scared you half to death when you couldn't find him for over two hundred measures?" came more accusations, and even Fingolfin had to laugh at the hounded expression on Manwë's face.

Finally Nerdanel had had enough of the disorder. Taking a stick in one hand, she simultaneously beat on the trunk of the tree Fingolfin was still tied to and tweaked Huan's tail, with the result that the tree made a loud thumping sound, Fingolfin let out a strangled yelp as one blow came within an inch of hitting his head, Huan ran away barking as though Melkor were chasing him, and the Ambarussa fell on top of each other with a shout.

Having gotten the attention of everyone in the orchard, with the exception of Huan, Nerdanel calmly announced, "We will be hosting breakfast for everyone at our home this morning. If you will follow my husband and me, I am sure we will be able to fix something up for you in a few minutes." She ignored Fëanor's groan and hushed his protests by brandishing the stick, which she still held in one hand. A quick slash with a table knife freed Fingolfin, who jumped up at once.

"Oh, thank Eru!" he almost shouted, scratching at his back furiously. A few beetles, twelve assorted grubs, and half a colony of ants tumbled out the back of his tunic. All the others, Valar and Valier included, stared in shocked silence as a final ant fell down and scurried away from the irate elf. Finally Fëanor was unable to restrain himself any longer and burst out laughing, rolling on the ground with the ants and crying tears of pure joy. Fingolfin, his extermination efforts concluded, looked at his brother with no small amount of concern, along with Nerdanel and her sons.

"Are you sure that these aren't the worst on both sides of the Void, love?" Vairë asked quietly, and Námo had no answer.

 **A/N: Well, that's it! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed, or favorited! Special thanks to the people who wrote in asking for updates; I needed that extra push to keep on writing.**

 **And remember, whenever you're dealing with the Noldor: "If I hate you and you hate me, we're in Finwë's family tree."**


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